


press the flesh

by havisham



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dissection, Established Relationship, Grave Robbers, Horror, Hot Corpses, Jonah Magnus: Eldritch Husbando, M/M, Medical Kink, Table Sex, marriage of inconvenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Jonathan Fanshawe is a man of science -- and science always requires sacrifice.Update: they're married now.
Relationships: Jonathan Fanshawe/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 28
Kudos: 56





	1. cutting remarks

“They say Pleasence’s dead,” Jonah told Jonathan over breakfast after a night of debauchery. Jonathan groaned and messaged his temples, the impact of Jonah’s words not penetrating through his aching head. 

He should have declined the last three drinks, he decided. But Jonah had been so persuasive and charming … And he had imbibed the same amount as Jonathan had done. And yet here Jonah was, as fresh as a daisy, while Jonathan felt like a warmed up corpse. 

If Jonah had not been his dearest friend in the world, Jonathan would have hated him as much as he loved him. Jonah smirked, as if he knew the drift of Jonathan’s scattered thoughts. 

Jonathan blinked and tried to pull himself together. “Pleasence, Pleasence. I know that name, don’t I?”

“You should,” said Jonah, cutting his toast into soldiers and dunking them into an egg. The lurid yellow of the yolk turned Jonathan’s stomach and he looked away. When Jonathan offered him a bite, he declined it weakly. It was only toast and tea for him this morning.

“He was one of your juniors,” Jonah continued on. “Tow-headed and apple cheeked. A charming boy, altogether. But now only food for the worms, alas.”

“You are dreadfully morbid this morning, Jonah,” Jonathan said, covering up a yawn. “Your reading choices are having a deleterious effect on you, I’m afraid. Was it an accident that killed young Pleasence?”

Jonah breathed out. He relished this too much, Jonathan thought. “No. There wasn’t a mark on him. The steward found him sprawled out on his bed. And he was an orphan — his guardian died last winter.”

“A tragedy,” Jonathan said vaguely. “We should go to the funeral, at least.”

“Oh yes,” Jonah said with a rustle of his newspapers. There was a gleam of satisfaction in his light grey eyes. “One must pay one’s final respects.”

*

The funeral was a lonely affair and sparsely attended, as Pleasence had not made much of an impression at the school — Jonathan was not the only person who failed to remember him. By rights, Jonah had no reason to be there at all, as he was completely unassociated with the medical school. But he was there, he said, in his role as Jonathan’s friend and associate. Jonathan thought the somber atmosphere of the kirkyard itself attracted him. After all, Jonah had decidedly _romantic_ reading habits. 

The service was brief — there were no words to make sense of such a death, or the ending of a life that was so barely lived. Jonathan tossed in the graveyard dirt when it was his time and then followed the crowd to the nearby tavern. Jonah, who had been at his side all the while, had now seen fit to disappear. 

Jonathan did not mind it. Jonah had his own pursuits, after all. 

As did he. 

*

It was the deepest night when Jonathan returned to Charles Pleasence’s graveside, with a burlap sack and a shovel. He, five pounds poorer thanks to all the appropriate bribes, set to work alone. The gravediggers had done a haphazard job on this one — the ground was hardly packed in, but Jonathan had to hurry — the sky above promised rain. 

He had hit the thin roof of the casket when he looked up to see the light of the lantern and Jonah’s face lit with it. 

“Got you, my dear,” he said softly and Jonathan knew better than to make any protestations of innocence, or appeals of their long, shared history together. That sort of thing never worked on Jonah. 

Instead, he said, softly, “Please put out the lamp, Jonah.” 

“Not yet. What are you doing, Jonathan?” 

Jonathan sighed. “You know Professor Knox hasn’t given me a cadaver in ages. How may I learn if I have nothing to study?” 

“To sully your own hands like this —” 

“Oh yes, it’s much better to wait for two rogues to do it, bringing in a corpse of someone who was walking about yesterday. Are you going to help me or not?” 

Jonah bent down, to take a better look at the scene. 

He always liked to _look_ , Jonathan thought with muted dislike. 

“I will,” Jonah said at last. “As a favour to you.” 

*

Charles Pleasence lay on an old work table that Jonathan used for dissections. Jonah had been right — there was no mark on him to show why he had died, nor any sign of a disease or degeneration. He looked as if he could open his eyes at this moment and speak, save for the deathly pallor of his skin. 

Jonathan sighed, half-regretful. He _had_ been a handsome boy. 

As he cut into Pleasence, to examine his heart, his liver and lungs, Jonathan could find no spot of disease or indeed, any troubles at all. He would pause at times to make notes, or speak aloud his observations. It was an old habit of his — he expected no response from his mute companion. Such was the depth of the silence, however, that when Jonah broke it by opening the cellar door, Jonathan bit off a cry. 

“Nervous?” Jonah asked, holding up a bottle of wine as he traversed down the stairs. “That’s not like you.” 

“I _requested_ quiet,” Jonathan said meaningfully. “That included you.” 

“You haven’t eaten for hours,” Jonah said. He came up to the table and glanced downward. “I grew concerned.” 

“And so you brought me wine,” Jonathan said drily. Jonah smiled at him and uncorked the bottle. They toasted to each other and to the pursuit of knowledge, to every possible end. 

Sipping on his cup of wine, Jonah mused, “It is a shock to see a man divvied up into his component parts. One thinks of meat gone rancid rather than some bright angel of reason.” 

“We know that the body is nothing without a soul,” Jonathan agreed, taking the cup from Jonah’s hand and finishing the wine. 

“ _Soul_ ,” Jonah said mockingly. “We know no such thing. If you say now that you’ve become Christian, I will have to sever our connection.”

“Would you? Sever our connection?” Jonathan asked earnestly. 

Jonah gave him a wry look. “No. I think you will be the one to do that.”

Jonathan shook his head. He could not imagine that could ever be the case. Jonah had found him desecrating a grave and had not even flinched. What would he have to do for Jonathan to abandon him?

With a soft sigh, Jonah pressed closer and kissed him. Jonathan thought of pushing him away. 

“I’ll get blood all over you, Jonah …” 

“I don’t mind it,” Jonah said, his eyes bright. “Seeing you so passionate is — it’s _invigorating_.” 

“Jonah Magnus, you are perverted voyeur,” Jonathan said as Jonah attacked his neck with kisses. He had already loosened his caveat, but Jonah was stripping him further, faster. It was the wine, Jonathan decided, having an effect on his empty stomach. Usually he would never be so wanton. 

He let Jonah untie his apron and push it aside. It was an unalloyed pleasure to see Jonah on his knees, looking at him with lustful eyes. He took out Jonathan’s cock and caressed it. When he pressed his lips against the tip of Jonathan’s cock, Jonathan shuddered.

“Did Sheridan teach you how to do that?” he whispered. Sheridan had been the prefect at their school that Jonah had fagged for. He’d been a notorious bully and had died some years before, when they were still at university. It had been a hideous death — and a nine day’s wonder — a rod of metal had fallen from the clear blue sky and right through him. 

“Yes,” Jonah said and swallowed him down. 

Jonah Magnus was and continued to be a terrible influence in Jonathan’s life. That was the only way to explain why in the world he found himself in this position — bent over the dissection table, with Jonah’s cock pressed hotly against him. 

“Jonah, we shouldn’t,” Jonathan gasped. He felt Jonah kiss the juncture of his neck and shoulder and shuddered. When Jonah thrust into him, hard and bit that same spot, Jonathan’s eyes flew open. He saw in front of him the twisting body of Charles Pleasence, who was trying to sit up, even as his organs slid wetly to the ground. 

His eyes were as wide as Jonah’s and his mouth was open to a silent scream. 

Jonathan felt terror — pure and unadulterated terror — shoot through him like a lightning bolt. He heard Jonah groan and come against his arse, but Jonathan pushed against him, trying to get away from the horror on the table. 

“Jonah, look — Jonah — what is happening —?” 

Jonah wrapped his arm around Jonathan’s waist. “What do you see, Jonathan?” 

“I -” Jonathan blinked. Charles Pleasence was lying still and dead on the dissection table, immovable as stone. His face was a severe death’s mask. There was not a twitch of movement anywhere. “... We have to bury this body. Now.” 

“What? Are you done with it already?” 

“Yes,” Jonathan said, his heart finally beginning to beat normally. “I’ve finished.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Doctor Knox bought bodies from Burke & Hare.  
> \- Pleasence is named after Donald Pleasence, who appeared in the Halloween movies.  
> \- Jonathan is very dismissive about Jonah's Romantic leanings. He's a STEM bro.  
> \- Writing two characters with very similar names... Hard! Next time, I'm sticking to surnames.


	2. sacred bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for 100 words of marriage as punishment.

They had conceived of the idea of a union of souls, regardless of all else, during their time at Oxford, citing such marriages that were possible in ancient times or during the earliest days of Christianity. Jonah remarked that all the qualities that made him a terrible candidate to be a respectable young lady's mate made him perfect for Jonathan. He was distant, discerning and, moreover, rapacious when he wished to be.

"But I would never interfere with you digging into corpses," he said, placing a kiss on the back of Jonathan's neck. He enjoyed it when Jonathan shuddered against him. "Indeed, my love, I do not mind you smelling of death at all."

"You speak senselessly, Jonah," Jonathan said, with the rectitude of a young reverend, for all that Jonah had stripped him down and was now preparing to fuck him. "It isn't as if -- I'm not allowing you to do this in the hopes of matrimony. I am sure you are aware that we are not allowed such things."

"My God allows it," Jonah said confidently. His God allowed for all things that could lead to more terror, more fear. And Jonathan's fear -- of hellfire that would some day consume him -- was delicious in ways that few things were.

It was not until many years afterward -- when Jonathan defied him for the last time -- than Jonah was forced to end their marriage, and indeed, Jonathan's life, that Jonah had cause to doubt himself. Perhaps Jonathan would say that he received the worst of the lot, but Jonah -- now in sweet young body, tight against his soul -- thought his regrets were the worst punishment. He would not have them again.


End file.
